Yes, I know. It's been a while and what can I say? Real life and quite frankly; Worst. Winter. Ever. Still, I finally seem to have shaken off the blues that have mentally crippled me and we can all put it behind us and get going with my stories again.
In regards to this particular fic I am heavily re-writing it to incorporate the general view by the people who have reviewed and PM ed me as to who they would most like to see as Angel's love interest. The lucky witch will be revealed at the end of the chapter. A chapter that I don't really remember being quite as 'lemony' as this turned out when I first wrote it but hey-ho. I hope you enjoy it anyway.
All credit goes to FateRogue for the wonderful Carina Black, and my undying gratitude for generously allowing me to use her in this story as well as for being a great friend and not letting me stew for too long.
As always if you have ideas, suggestions or want to see something happen then put it in a review or give me a PM. As you have seen in most of my stories I am more than happy to adapt it as we go if I find something that you've suggested helpful, useful or just plain amusing.
I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.
Dylan the Rabbit. xx
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Fallen Angel.
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4. Frustration.
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The evening following the Potter girls' impromptu day out in London found Mari sitting cross legged on Carina Black's bed giving her best friend all the juicy details and waxing lyrical about how brilliant a time she had had and how incredibly cool and fun and generous Miss De'ath was. In addition to her being unbelievably sexy and gorgeous, of course. All of which gushing praise for someone who was not her was making Carina increasingly and unreasonably irritated with the little red-head.
Mari's enthusiasm in describing her 'date' in Diagon Alley with the oh so perfect Angel had initially led to Carina being grumpy and withdrawn (even more so than usual) but eventually the red-head's mood wore her down. It was almost impossible to stay mad at her best friend. The girl was just so bubbly and infectious when she got all excited by something that you simply couldn't help but smile along with her as she chattered away about her 'brilliant' day out with her older crush. And not her. Which was the only down side of the situation if Carina were being honest with herself. Which of course, she still wasn't.
The word 'jealousy' had yet to be recognised in her mind as to what she was feeling in regard to her cute and adorable best friend. The word 'sleepover', however, was not only recognised but entirely welcomed as the night drew in and the two fourth years cuddled up together. It was a pretty common occurrence for them to do so, especially after they had got away from their respective horrendous summer situations, providing a sense of comfort for them both and there was nothing even slightly romantic or sexual in it.
Well, not usually anyway.
When Carina Black woke the next morning she found herself to be in a rather different and ... interesting situation. Embarrassing to be sure, but still interesting. She was spooned up behind her cutely snoring first and best friend, with her face buried in a mass of that lush, dark red hair the smell of which was so familiar and made her feel so safe and content. This wasn't where the embarrassment or interest was coming from, however. No, that was reserved for the disposition of her hands that had clearly wandered in her sleep, probably due to the fiercely intense dream that she had been just as clearly enjoying during her slumber.
Her left hand had worked it's way under Mari's body and up under the short T-shirt that she habitually wore to bed and was grasping firmly to the small, soft mound that was the red-head's left breast. Even more interesting was where her right hand currently was, having insinuated itself beneath the boy shorts that made up the bottom half of her friend's sleep ensemble and cupping a part of her anatomy that was equally as plump and soft although definitely more ... um ... moist. Carina blushed bright red and tried to slowly extricate her wandering hands from their respective cotton prisons. Unfortunately, even these slight movements seemed to gain the attention of the still half asleep girl laying so close next to her and Mari's own hands also slid under her clothing and clamped themselves tightly over hers. Then the embarrassment really began to ratchet up as those delicate hands slowly started to move.
Apparently Carina wasn't the only one having naughty dreams.
Just how naughty Mari's dream was was pretty obvious since now Carina's left hand was being worked against her friend's ... oh who was she kidding ... her crushes ... beautifully proportioned breast while her right was being forced with increasing pressure into the cleft of her most private of places. Inevitably that pressure provided by the clearly highly aroused but still slumbering witch produced a result as the Black heiress' middle two fingers suddenly popped between Mari's outer lips and slid unresisting inside of her.
It was at this point that Carina Black found out something very interesting about herself. She was really good at fingering girls. Like, really good. To be fair, she had practised rather extensively on herself for the past year or two, so she should be pretty good at it. Her fingers had curled on instinct and when the heel of her hand, working purely on muscle memory and as if with a mind of it's own, had joined the party by first uncovering and then going to work on Mari's clit with a real purpose, the results were somewhat spectacular. That warm, tight and moist home that her fingers had been so willingly and insistently invited into became decidedly wet. And soon enough wet became positively soaked.
Increasingly harsh and breathless moans escaped her feisty, little play-mate while the girl ground her rear end back into her, rubbing hard against her and causing Carina to also begin her own ascent to pleasure. Had it not been for crippling terror that Mari would suddenly 'wake up' and hate her for what she was doing she would have been rather proud of herself. Unfortunately this, along with what Mari was now murmuring to herself threw the proverbial bucket of cold water over Carina, dampening her own arousal instantly.
The names of both Hermione and Angel had been whispered into the pillow as the fourth Champion used her friend's fingers to grind and shudder her way to an obviously amazing and extremely enjoyable, if semi-conscious, orgasm but the name that Carina found that she so desperately did want to hear was the one that was not forthcoming.
Despite the thrill and the pleasure that this morning's unexpected activity had aroused within her and set her heart to pounding, the only feeling that she was left with was an overwhelming sense of disappointment that she wasn't the one that Mari had been thinking of. When the twitching and shuddering of Mari's comedown had finally finished and the dreamily smiling red-head turned those huge, emerald eyes on the girl that had just made her feel so incredible, however, the disappointment was quickly replaced by something else.
The word 'awkward' had probably never been quite so appropriate as it was in the situation that the two teenagers found themselves this morning.
.
Back in her twenties when she had been the 'girl who lived', Angel De'ath had discovered that she had a real, honest to goodness love affair with everything to do with the subject of Arithmancy. She had found it to be a fascinating branch of magic, useful in all types of enchanting and, more importantly to her, rituals and had berated herself many times for not taking it while at Hogwarts because of her poor study habits. This, of course, was not the only reason that she was in this class today. Today her motives leaned much more toward the visceral than the academic and focussed entirely upon her pretty, geeky teacher who she was intending to seduce.
Professor Septima Vector, however, was not playing ball.
Angel had gone out of her way to be exceedingly and obviously enticing and the damned specky little nerd that was her professor hadn't even noticed. Everyone else in the class had, mind you, including a wildly amused Katie Bell who was now teasing her about it almost constantly.
She had deliberately not worn her robe and jumper to class that morning, surreptitiously tightened her uniform shirt, popping four buttons in the process, worn her most provocative heels and stockings (Suspender belt included) and shortened her skirt to an almost obscene level. Her make up was dark and heavy and her hair was a perfect mix of 'salon sleek' and 'just been shagged stupid' that would have made most girls, gay or straight, wet their knickers at the sight. After all of this preparation work the now even more attractive, if rather slutty looking, Dark witch had spent almost the entire double lesson sitting on the woman's desk asking breathy voiced questions and offering what she knew to be a magnificent view of her very impressive assets.
And her reward for all of this effort?
Nothing. Not a fucking thing. Not a gasp nor a glance, not so much as a twitch from the damned woman even after she had stayed behind after the class was over, flipped up her skirt and offered her perfect, lace covered (just barely so) bottom up for 'punishment' for her forward behaviour. She hadn't even gotten a bloody detention out of it. At least that would have proved that her professor had noticed her and set things up for a more private seduction later.
But no.
Just ... nothing.
Angel was pretty sure by this point that Septima Vector was either an incredibly faith oriented and strong willed nun (and she had 'known' some weak willed ones in her life) or that she was actually, technically dead from the neck down. Either way it was not good news.
For someone, like her, who had an intricate and well thought out plan that included the woman's seduction as a major step, it was extremely fucking annoying and extremely fucking frustrating. In more ways than one. And after a week of it that frustration had finally boiled over.
Being back in a seventeen year old body, might be doing wonders for Angel's self esteem, although she had never really had any issues in regard to that before, but it came with a raft of other problems. The worst of these as far as she was concerned was the rampant teenage hormones. The powerhouse that was the former reviled Dark Lady of the Magical World was frankly, gagging for sex (with a girl, obviously) and was extremely pissed off that she was being denied it from her chosen partner. And that was very bad news for anyone unwise enough to get in her way today.
The snarling, rage monster that was always close to the surface and could give a certain muscly, green, comic book anti-hero a run for his money was ready to be unleashed upon the first target that presented itself. Angel De'ath needed a good hard fuck or good hard fight. And, happily for her, since she frustratingly wasn't in any danger of getting the former, a large Durmstrang boy grabbed at her arse in the main entrance hall, providing the reason and opportunity for the latter.
From an advantageous position on the main staircase a certain platinum blonde, French girl watched in breathless awe as the tall black eyed witch that was her main competition decorated the floor below with the bright blood of the very stupid Bulgarian boy who had just assaulted her. It was extremely impressive that the girl never once reached for her wand, which she had absolutely no clue where she even kept in those incredibly short and tight clothes, but simply beat the living shit out of the hulking, great brute with her fists, elbows, knees and feet. Even when she did deliver the knockout blow with magic, it was with an impeccably cast wordless and wandless banisher that was over-powered enough that it put her opponent through a nearby and very solid looking door.
Fleur Delacour was stunned at the skill, the power and the utterly ruthless brutality in battle of the De'ath girl. For such a lithe, young thing her kicks and punches were delivered with a quite breathtaking amount of speed and power and as for her magic, well ... that was just devastating to watch. She could literally feel it from thirty feet away, behind and slightly above her as the girl's spell connected. In a castle full to the brim with dull aura-ed, mediocre magicals, Angel De'ath was a shining beacon of light. Albeit a rather Dark light.
Dark or not though, it didn't really matter. What mattered to her, and to all Veela, was power and passion in those that they hunted. It also didn't hurt if they were as amazingly attractive as the British witch. And this 'Angel' girl certainly was that, from her flat stomach, combined with womanly curves and tightly toned muscles to those teasing glimpses of tattooed skin. She was of a level of physical perfection only usually achieved by the Veela themselves. Finally, after some five years of fruitless searching, the eighteen year old French Champion had maybe, just maybe, found someone who was worthy of her.
She gave a rare smile as she watched the black haired witch pop her joints and sigh in obvious pleasure at the violence that she had just indulged in and she found herself looking forward to the chase. And her inevitable reward.
The reward for Angel following her savage beating of the unfortunate Durmstrang idiot was the Head of Gryffindor, professor McGonagall appearing and giving her that old, stern, thin lipped look of disappointment. Along with four days of detention. According to the Tournament rules, Angel didn't actually have to either accept or attend these detentions but had opted to, as long as she was allowed to serve them with the Headmaster who had readily agreed to this condition.
Albus had been expecting something like this to happen. Adding teenaged hormones to a witch so powerful that she could affect the wards of the castle and who hadn't had to deal with such issues in nearly four decades and it was almost inevitable that she would snap. Especially considering her hugely entertaining, if entirely fruitless, pursuit of his pretty, young Arithmancy professor. He had been an educator for long enough that he had seen this sort of thing quite a few times, if not maybe as bluntly delivered or as outright funny as Miss De'ath's particular situation.
Over the course of these four 'detentions', that were really just an excuse for the two of them to chat about anything and everything from history to spell crafting to chess manoeuvrers, he had got to know a lot more about what drove this fascinating witch. Any lingering doubts that Albus had about her ability to make a change for the good in their World drifted away like chaff on a summer breeze. Oh, she definitely still had her 'Dark' moments as Igor Karkaroff's young charge could certainly attest to, but her goals and her overall outlook were entirely 'light' in nature. He was getting more and more happy to leave Tom and his followers to to the tender mercies of Miss Angel De'ath.
She might not be as actually merciful as he would be but she was bound to be far more effective and far more entertaining.
.
Elsewhere in the castle a few days later, Hermione Granger was feeling herself to be a very confused young witch at the moment. She was most especially confused about what had happened in the last two weeks that had led to her two best (and indeed only) female friends to behave so oddly towards each other. To be fair, she had been confused by their behaviour for quite some time now in terms of their interactions with herself, but this was the first time that they had exhibited it in respect of each other.
Mari and Carina were so tight and comfortable with each other that all of the strange blushing and the inability to form coherent sentences that they usually reserved for when in her company was so out of character between the two of them that it had her positively stumped. Anyone who had, even a passing acquaintance with Hermione Granger would have known that she could not let that situation stand for long. She would find out what had caused this strange rift between the two of them but now was clearly not the right time.
That she recognised this fact about timing proved just how much she had grown as a person under the influence of her friends. She still couldn't help herself when it came to making sure that those friends were keeping up in their studies, however. Classes or Tournaments, Hermione believed in the old Scouts motto of 'be prepared' and she was determined to ensure that Mari, along with her new but annoying friend Angel, were exactly that. Prepared.
"Shouldn't you two be in the library, trying to find out what possibilities there are for your first task in ... you know ... less than a week's time."
The bushy haired library queen glared at the two Champions and although Mari looked away guiltily (as usual), Angel was apparently not so easily intimidated and answered her with a casual and unaffected wave of her hand.
"No, it's okay, I know what it is."
Hermione used one of her well practised expressions that indicated to everyone that she was fast losing her patience. Mari's new friend, protector and fellow Tri-Wizard Champion clearly appeared to know this but just as clearly didn't appear to care and was enjoying playing with her. Which annoyed the bushy haired witch no end. Angel De'ath might have been the first in line when looks (and breasts) were being handed out but when it came to manners, Hermione thought that the older girl was severely lacking.
"Oh, you wanted me to tell you what it is. Okay then, it's dragons."
Whatever smart comeback she had prepared died on Hermione's lips as all she could do was trip over her own tongue while repeating the important part of that statement.
"D ... dragons?"
"Mmmhmm."
"And that doesn't bother you at all?"
Angel's bright smile and nonchalant shrug and shake of the head as she put another forkful of egg onto her toast was all the indication that Hermione supposed she was going to get. Hermione was really starting to dislike her. Not that that was going to stop her from trying to get the seriousness of her and Mari's situation across to them and encourage the pair to improve their habits.
"So now, my question would be ... why aren't the two of you in the library trying to bone up on dragons and how to fight or get past them?"
"Bone up."
The supposedly mature sixth year Champion only seemed to be able to focus on two of the words that had formed her sentence and snorted in her amusement. Hermione thought that she was being very juvenile. Not that she was alone in that, mind you. Even Carina had cracked a smile at that. It flashed across her face and then, when she glanced over the table and caught the exact same expression on Mari's face, it had disappeared as fast as it had come. Her two old friends locked eyes for the briefest of moments before they both looked quickly away from each other, going back to their previously noted, ridiculous, blushing and avoidance behaviour.
It was at moments like this that she really missed the simplicity of her conversations with Ronald. She might be monumentally pissed off at him at the moment but she could certainly agree with the moronic, jealous, ginger dick-head on one important point. Girls were weird.
.
Training for the Tri-Wizard Tournament was pretty brutal for Mari but her trainer was clearly not going to let her off lightly and was expecting the 'girl-who-lived' to give her maximum effort at all times. It helped that, if there was one person that Mari Potter really wanted to impress, it was this particular blend of harsh taskmaster and gorgeous witch. She still couldn't believe that she had got so lucky as to have absolutely the most talented and powerful girl in the school offering to train with her, but here she was, trading spells with the beautiful and brilliant Angel De'ath.
And Mari was pleased that they were doing this together for another reason, since Angel had suggested the simplest solution to her dragon problems, that being that she should summon her broom and use her skill on the Firebolt to fly around it. Sure, there were still risks involved in that strategy but her much admired senior was teaching her a few new spells to give her every advantage. Once she had perfected the accio (summoning) charm, Angel had shown her some of those curses that would affect the dragon's senses and movement, making her both harder to see and harder to hit. It was hard on her both physically and magically but Mari persevered in her endeavour to make her crush proud of her. The only part that really troubled her was that 'Rina wasn't here learning it all right along with her and pushing her to do better with her constant support and barbed witticisms.
When they finally stopped for the day Angel posed a question that had been on her mind for a couple days now. She would have noticed the tension between Mari and Carina a lot sooner if she hadn't been quite so involved with trying (and failing) to get in behind professor Vector's infuriatingly strong defences and into her pants. Still, she had noticed now and it was time to get to the bottom of whatever problems there were between the girls as she knew how much Mari relied on the normally unwavering support of her best friend.
The two of them shared a House elf provided dinner in the empty classroom that they had been using to train in companionable silence until, knowing that Mari would never give up what happened without a push, Angel broached the subject.
"So what's up with you and Carina, Mari?"
"What! Nothing. N ... n ... nothing's up. Why would anything be up?"
Yeah, Angel wasn't buying it. If nothing else, the stuttering was a dead giveaway.
"Well something's clearly happened, you two are barely acknowledging each other's existence at the moment and I know that's not normal, so ... let's try that again. What's going on with you and Carina?"
"I ... um ... used something of 'Rina's."
"Really? That's it? What the Hell did you use of hers that's got the two of you into such a state?"
There were a few long moments of embarrassed twitching before the younger girl finally whispered out her answer.
"Um ... her fingers?"
At the barely audible, questioning statement, combined with the involuntary glance at her crotch and the impressive blush that Mari now wore, realisation dawned. The sudden, uncomfortable silence was broken when Angel broke out barking and snorting in that huge, honking laughter of hers before having to steady herself on the rough stone wall. When she finally managed to get herself under control, Mari really began to wish that she hadn't.
"Oh my God, you're such a slut, Potter."
"I am not a slut!"
Angel pierced her younger self with a knowing raised eyebrow and and a smirking gaze.
"You kind of are though, aren't you?"
"No!" Mari seemed to think about it for a moment, then said in a much smaller and quieter voice. "Maybe I am though. How do you know?"
"Why don't you just tell me everything that happened and then I'll be able to give you my honest opinion."
So the brightly blushing saviour of the Wizarding World told her friend and crush everything that had happened in Carina's bed that morning, almost a fortnight ago now, in intimate and excruciating detail. Well, excruciating for her, anyway. Angel seemed to be lapping it up. A sudden vision of the tall girl's face between her thighs doing precisely that brought her complexion even closer to scarlet than it had been previously and led her to unconsciously add in even more details that she would never have told if she were paying more attention. And not perving out. Mari got herself together enough to finish the embarrassing tale and finished with a muttered.
"So? What do you think?"
Mari had hoped that the long pause was merely for her distractingly gorgeous new friend and training partner to get her thoughts in order before giving her a reasoned, sensible and comforting reply. Those hopes were cruelly dashed when the older girl finally removed her finger from those luscious, red lips (that she sooo wanted to kiss) and spoke to deliver her verdict.
"Yeah, you're a big, gay slut. Like a major big, gay slut. In fact, if this was a Tri-'big, gay slut' instead of a Tri-Wizard Tournament you'd win it hands down." Angel chuckled at her own pun before adding lecherously. "So to speak."
There could only be one response to this, punctuated with a mighty punch to Angel's arm..
"Bitch."
"Slut."
"Pots and kettles Angel dear, pots and kettles." The teasing had obviously worked and it was a much more confident Mari that suddenly smirked right back at her. "Besides, you're just jealous that I'm better at it than you. Don't think we haven't noticed how you've been trying to get all 'cosy' with a certain Arithmancy professor or how she's not even giving you the time of day ... let alone anything else."
The cute, little, green eyed witch grinned evilly at her before, very maturely, poking out her tongue and flouncing off. Angel noted with more than a little pride that Mari was heading, with confidence and clear purpose, for Gryffindor tower, hopefully so that she could talk things out with Carina and get the two of them back on to an even keel. She knew that her younger self would need the strength that her best friend and inadvertent sex toy would provide before long.
.
Mari Potter, did indeed head straight back to the tower in search of her friend.
She slammed through the portrait hole and scanned the room searching for the familiar black hair and stormy grey eyes of her target. Having acquired her, she squared her shoulders, set her jaw and marched over to set things right.
.
It had been the week and six days from Hell for Carina Black.
And Hell was exactly the right word for the situation in which she found herself at the moment. Being on the outs with the girl that she regarded as her one and only 'true' friend, the girl who understood and shared in her pain in a way that nobody else possibly could have, had taken a huge toll on Carina. She was so un-used to not having her best friend and confidante there to laugh with, vent at and generally share the minutiae of her daily life with that it had totally knocked her world off it's axis. But still, Carina just couldn't seem to keep herself from either ignoring or growling at the poor girl for something that she felt was all her own fault. It was a very wearing situation.
That it was a situation entirely of her own making was no comfort at all. But then having your own brain screaming at you to stop being such an arse and a coward and just fucking talk to the girl seemed to only add to the list of recent stupid decisions that were mentally weighing the secret Black heiress down.
Speaking of her status within the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black it was to her, until recently, imprisoned natural father that she had turned in attempt to receive some of that much needed help and comfort. Sirius and his peculiar brand of faux cheerful optimism (which was obviously a front to mask his utter confusion and cluelessness) really was, of course, spectacularly unhelpful with this kind of situation that required a deft and delicate touch. After a decade of incarceration in Azkaban, followed by another year on the run, the old dog's emotional muscles were even more atrophied than his physical ones. All of their late night floo calls and letters were, therefore, utterly useless.
In the end, Carina realised that she was on her own and it was her problem to sort out so she might as well just face up to it. As well as facing up to her new, confusing, romantic feelings for her 'best friend' that their midnight fumblings had brought suddenly tumbling into her head. It was in this mind-set that Carina decided on a course of action that both thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. She had all but determined to suck it up and talk to Mari to clear the air between them and let the chips fall where they may when the red-headed whirlwind herself came barrelling through the portrait hole and marched straight up to her.
With the barest word of a commanding 'come with me' out of her mouth, Mari had grabbed her by the hand, literally dragged her up to their dorm and bundled Carina on to her bed where they now sat opposite each other. At the scene of the crime. A crime that she really did not want to be reminded of. Carina Black glared, a little bad temperedly but mostly confusedly, at her red haired captor. Somewhat surprisingly, Mari glared right back at her before extending a finger and poking her in the chest. Hard.
"I know it's awkward and I know you don't want to talk about it but that is exactly what we are going to do Carina Black. Talk."
To be honest, most of the 'talk' was from Mari. Carina was stunned, embarrassed and moved by her first ever friend's absolute determination to, not so much get back to where they were, after the incident, since they both knew that was an impossible task, but to accept what had happened and find a way to move on from it. That Mari didn't hate her and was willing to sit down with her and search for a way to keep the two of them together was almost making her weep with relief. And she had to admit that the new found confidence the red-head was displaying was kind of sexy.
No.
Not sexy.
That kind of thinking was exactly what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. Carina knew that she needed to be strong now and ignore these feelings and urges that were threatening to destroy her most treasured friendship with the girl that she considered to be family. No matter what temptations the pretty, little minx was giving her with those wide, soulful, green eyes and slowly undressing on her bed like she was doing now. Wait. What?
"What are you doing?"
"Sleeping over."
"Oh." Carina tried very hard not to stutter like a moron and to her own extreme annoyance failed miserably. "Umm ... I ... I promise that ... what happened ... well ... that is to say ... er ... it won't happen again."
And she was determined that it wouldn't. She would tie her hands together behind her damned back if she had to, but she would not be risking her and Mari's friendship by getting all handsy again. It was too important to her. All these determinations and good intentions, however, would be in vain since someone else had an altogether different plan for what was going to happen tonight. As Mari curled into her favoured 'little spoon' position she felt a sudden nervousness as she all but whispered out.
"I wouldn't mind if it did happen again."
It was said so quietly and so sweetly that Carina thought she might have misheard it but when Mari's hand reached back, gently took ahold of hers and pulled it possessively across her stomach she was certain that she hadn't. A certainty that was reinforced when, after a few minutes of lazily drawing circles on the red-head's stomach with her finger, her hand was gripped again and pushed firmly and inexorably lower.
And this time when the other girl shuddered through her shattering orgasm there was only one name that left her lips.
"Oh, 'Rina!"
Oh Merlin.
Carina didn't know what this made them, whether they were girlfriends, friends with benefits or just occasional fuck buddies (not that she would have recognised at least two of those terms) but she knew that she wanted more of it. Had she been less emotionally stunted due to her troubled upbringing, the volatile witch would have recognised these feelings for what they were and would have known beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was in real trouble now.
Carina Black was now Love's bitch and was about to discover just how cruel and demanding a Mistress she could be.
.
It was the morning of the first task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament and the entirety of Gryffindor House had turned out to encourage their Champions and to make sure that they ate a decent meal before what was going to be a trying and physically draining day for them. That this show of House solidarity was, for the most part, inspired by the all too real fear of what one of those Champions could and very likely would do to them if they didn't make such a showing was of no consequence to Angel. She didn't care why they did it so long as they gave little Mari the support that she so desperately craved from them.
Not that the girl in question seemed to either notice or care. No, Mari Potter was far too busy whispering and giggling with Carina Black, whose arm she had been permanently attached to for the last day and a half.
This development had resulted in a huge sigh of relief from the entire population of Gryffindor tower, none larger than from Hermione Granger who was just pleased that she would no longer have to referee for the two of them. Whatever it was that her lunatic friends had been fighting about appeared to be over now, thank God, and they were back to ... well, not normal exactly. There was far too much intimate innuendo and slightly inappropriate touching for 'normal' but since it was better than being caught up in the middle of their recent, silent, bitch fight, Hermione was happily counting it as a win.
That happy was quickly chased away, however, when they received a very unexpected guest at their Saturday breakfast. Hermione had nothing against the French in general, but she did have a problem with this particular young woman and her 'princess' attitude. The stunning good looks and easy way that she interacted with people didn't exactly help with her irrational feelings of enmity either. Thankfully it turned out that the cold, Gallic tart was here for someone else. Mentally berating herself for her intolerance and 'language', the Gryffindor library queen tried not to make it too obvious that she was listening in.
Angel, not being at all worried about the task today, had been spending this breakfast time in quiet reflection of her progress since she had arrived at Halloween. In the plus column, she had made great strides in taking Mari's romantic attentions off of Hermione (the new interest in Carina was unexpected but still made her rather happy) and also in boosting the red-head's skills and self esteem. It wasn't all good news, of course. Her dismal failure in regard of shagging professor Vector was grating on her mightily and had brought that part of her plan to a crashing halt. Although this morning's activities, in front of various Ministry bigwigs and members of the press should hopefully get things moving again. It was just a shame that she wouldn't have a highly inappropriate witch to snog at the conclusion of her 'performance'.
Her ruminations on her progress were interrupted by a breathy voice in a familiar and much hated French accent.
"You are Angel, yes?" A slender hand stroked the time traveller's bare thigh, coming to rest just above her knee and lingering there. "It is a most apt name for one so 'eavenly looking."
It was Fleur Delacour and she was looking at Angel with a very thinly veiled look of predatory hunger.
Oh my God. Was she flirting with her? One look at the two fourth years across the table who were now engaged in a parody of just that, limp hands touching arms and faux kissy faces told her that Mari and Carina certainly thought so. Angel gave them a 'look' and a one fingered salute before dragging that same finger underneath her nose and inhaling deeply, thus turning their mocking and laughing into blushing and hiding while she muttered out a quick 'hello' and introduction.
If Fleur noticed this, it didn't appear to phase her at all.
"You will call me Fleur ... and you will call me tomorrow."
That entitled statement, spoken with the arrogance of one who knows how perfect and beautiful she is would have been enough for Angel to dismiss this as a weak attempt to try and put her opponent off of her game. But. That look. There was no mistaking it and the Dark witch just couldn't get it out of her head. She wasn't giving up without a fight, mind you.
"And why would I do that?"
"Because after I win the first task this morning you will be so impressed with my … prowess … that you will be begging me for a date. And if I am feeling particularly generous, I may actually allow you to take me out."
"Yeah, like either of those things are going to happen."
Fleur sensed a challenge and just couldn't resist pushing
"Hmmm. A wager then. When I beat you in the first task today you will present yourself at the Beaubaxtons carriage at eleven tomorrow morning and you will take me to lunch in your 'Ogsmeade."
"And what do I get if I beat your score?"
The French girl paused for a minute and appeared to be thinking of how best to respond to the possibility of this highly unlikely (in her mind, anyway) outcome.
"Well, it must be very frustrating for you putting out all this effort to capture the 'eart of the lovely Professeur only to 'ave her evade you so easily, non? So your reward for beating my score will be that you finally get to ... score."
"Good luck with that, at this point I doubt that even your Veela powers could get that clueless bint to so much as notice me let alone get me in her pants."
Fleur's light laughter tinkled annoyingly, but still somehow delightfully and prettily, in Angel's treacherous ears.
"Oh no, ma Ange', you would not be scoring with 'er but with someone much more worthy of your time."
The slender hand one again reached across beneath the table and sharp fingernails raked up Angel's thigh before giving a squeeze that was positively chock full of promises of naughtiness to come.
For the first time in a great many years, the feared and reviled 'Angel of Death' was lost for words in the face of pretty girl's flirting. Fucking teenage hormones.
As McGonagall appeared and chivvied the three Champions at the Gryffindor table out of the Great Hall to prepare, Angel realised that if it truly was the French girl's intention to put her off her game, she had succeeded spectacularly well. Any reservations that she may have had that Fleur Delacour was any less of a petty, evil, Gallic bitch than the last time around were immediately dispelled. Although she found herself suddenly very interested in trouncing her in the first task just to wipe that supercilious smile off her face ... and definitely not so that she could 'score' with her. Oh no. Not even slightly that.
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